A king who has just built a magnificent house stands in it and admits it cannot hold the One it was built for, since the highest heavens are too small a cup for that ocean. The danger in any fine work is the swell of pride that thinks the achievement has captured God. Here the builder catches himself and bows instead.
The cure is that honest smallness, offering the work while confessing it can never contain the guest. God is present as the vastness no house measures, choosing nonetheless to meet the humble heart inside the very walls it raised.